It is 1:05 a.m. and as I sit here, mindlessly surfing the net out of boredom and insomnia, what should catch my eye?
The trash can in the kitchen…. its gleaming stainless steel exterior mocking me with its sticky fingerprints and overflowing refuse.
Yeah, I see you. Now shut up.
Am I the only person in this house who knows the mechanics involved in changing out the trash bag?
It seems like a simple enough process.
Pick the full one up and out.
Give ‘er a spin and tie it up.
Insert new bag.
That is apparently just too complicated and time-consuming for this household.
Better to keep packing it in, until it flows over the top and tumbles to the floor.
That’s ok, dears.
Momma will pick it up.
I have nothing better to do.
I need the excercise anyway, right?
Maybe, if I ignore it, and wish hard enough, the housecleaning fairy will come tonight.
Please, oh please, come visit me!
Oh, and if you could hit the bathroom with your magic wand on the way out, I’ll be much obliged.